


The Sound Of Our Love

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, Love, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dream is a classically trained pianist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: George hears Dream play piano for the first time.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 730





	The Sound Of Our Love

**Author's Note:**

> hi :)  
> i saw in someone’s tags (i can’t think of it off the top of my head sorry) about dream playing piano and i just felt SO INSPIRED.
> 
> anyway enjoy <3

George heard it echoing down the hall of their apartment as he walked in. Music. A piano, to be exact. He paused his movements to allow the situation to process in his mind - Dream was playing the piano. 

George knew Dream played piano - it was just information he’d gathered over the years of knowing him - but every time he asked and begged Dream to demonstrate he’d just refuse. George smiled fondly over the several memories he has of this; Dream shaking his head, flustered, as his face turned a soft pink from shyness George didn’t know Dream possessed. Of course this only prompted relentless teasing from the brunet. On a few occasions this had resulted in Dream tapping out a short melody, which - despite its brevity - had left George in a state of awe, but longing for so much more.

But this was different. Then, Dream’s timidness had crept into his playing, hindering him from his full potential. Now, however, there was seemingly nothing holding him back. Alone, Dream can play however loud, soft, over dramatically, or underwhelming as he wants. No standards, no expectations or judgement, just the ability to enjoy the music for the sake of music. And George could sense this. 

He was still standing in the doorway. As quietly as he could, to not reveal his being there, he closed and locked the front door, and started walking towards the source of the music. 

George didn’t realise his amazement could grow past what he was feeling moments ago, but as he approached closer, he was proven wrong. His closer proximity allowed him to pick up on all the dainty intricacies lacing the melody, and just how lush and complex the accompanying bass harmonics were. The music flowed through their apartment, washing up at George’s feet and urging him closer and closer to the music. He felt simply entranced by the music, appreciating the art in a way he’d never previously understood. 

He was now stood just outside the room in which Dream was playing. George took the risk of being heard, peeking around the corner in desperation of becoming closer with the music.  
He almost audibly gasped. 

The image before him was so beautifully candid and raw, George was sure it could’ve been presented in the Louvre.  
He saw Dream; wearing just a hoodie and jeans, allowing blond wisps of hair to fall in front of his eyes, lost in concentration, eyes glued to his fingers dancing across the ivory keys, and being so amazingly himself. All too often, Dream is required to paint himself in a certain way for his audience, and George knew just how exhausting this can be for someone. But right now, it was all forgotten. Dream, the very core of who he is as a person, was being presented to George right now. 

George allowed himself to stay lost in the moment, before realising the music was coming to a close. And, being the person he is, he decided to be a dick about it. 

“Wow,” he said, drawing out the vowel to allow his teasing to become glaringly obvious. 

“Jesus fucking christ, George,” the younger replied, whipping around from the piano stool in terror. 

George giggled, “Jumpscared?” 

“You are such a little shit. When did you get home?” the blond exclaimed, his embarrassment translating to frustration in his speech. 

“Around 5 minutes ago,” he replied, taking a few steps into the room. “I liked what I heard.”  
He smirked, despite this being the full truth, he couldn’t help but continue to tease. 

“Shut up.” 

“No I will not shut up,” George answered, a lighthearted tone to his voice as he took a seat next to Dream on the stool. “And neither should you.” 

“I’m not playing again.” Dream began to get up. 

The smaller grabbed and tugged at Dream’s arm, forcing him back into his seat. 

“Come on, Dream. Please. I actually really liked it.” He begged, allowing full sincerity into his voice.

“Oh really?” He chuckled slightly in disbelief, however still half genuinely touched that George honestly enjoyed the music. 

“Dream, like, not to be a simp,” the two smiled at George’s choice of words, “you’re genuinely good. And I don’t mean that as someone who doesn’t play piano and has no idea what he’s talking about. You’re talented, I promise.” 

Dream wanted so badly for George to take back what he just said, to throw in a ‘sike’ at the end of his dialogue. But he didn’t. Dream had to cave in - he’d never felt more appreciated in his life. 

“Fine,” he sighed in feigned half-annoyance, “pick a note.” 

George celebrated, giddy with excitement.  
He pointed out to a black key in front of him.  
“That one.”

“Alright, you chose an F sharp. Normally I’d ask if you want to hear it in major or minor, but F sharp minor is actually my favourite key to improvise in.”

“Improvise?” George basically spat out, stunned. 

“Yeah. When you’ve been playing long enough you just kinda get to know what sounds good and what doesn’t, without playing it. I dunno.” He paused for a second. “I mean, I hope it sounds good.”

“I’m going to ignore how annoyed I am at your talent for a moment to tell you that of course it’s good, and to shut up and stop stalling.” 

There were a few moments of silence as the cogs turned in Dreams head, silently half composing a tune in his head to improvise around. His hands reached out towards the bass end of the piano, resting lightly atop the keys.

As soon as his fingers began working their way across the keys, George felt true contentment from the music he was hearing. He stared intently at the way Dreams fingers worked away at the instrument. The sound was a deep, rich, and lush piece of yearning and longing, yet somehow so welcoming and warm, wrapping around George and holding him safely. 

‘I love you’, George thought to himself. Although rarely admitted aloud, it was fact. George loves Dream, and all the new things he discovers about him each day - especially his musical aptitude.  
He rested his head on Dreams shoulder as he continued to tinker away at the keys. He allowed himself to become completely immersed in the music, secretly hoping to stay in this moment forever.


End file.
